Cold Revelations: Alsius Somnio
by Dauq
Summary: After Majora, Link has strange dreams about what might become of Hyrule. Unbeknownst to him, it has already begun in another time . . . REVISED version of an older story, "Cold Revelations!"
1. Default Chapter

The original draft of this story was written and posted years ago under my original alias, arialyn-chan, as "Cold Revelations." Unfortunately, I never finished the story, and instead it was abandoned to lie forgotten in the infinite depths of the fanfiction.net archive . . . until now. Lol, yes, three years older (and hopefully wiser), I've decided to finished the story, rewriting both the original chapters continuing the plot as well as giving the story a new title. However, I'll be frank: I am a busy person, but I will update once a week. Hopefully, even while holding three jobs, that can be managed. Now, without further ado, here is the first rewritten chapter of my first story on fanfiction.net, ""

Love,

Dauq a.k.a. "arialyn-chan"

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p.s. – for those who want to, you can go ahead and read the older version of this fic, the link is provided below. However, do not take the older draft as set in stone, I've reread it myself and have decided to add a few revisions. Don't worry, the plot itself will remain mostly untouched, but I'm hoping to smooth out a few kinks here and there within the text. To get my meaning, you can compare the first chapter of the original version to the revised version ß original version under "arialyn-chan."

Chapter 1: _Alsius_

Cold swept through his body, chilling to the soul, forcing the blood to retreat from extremities, immediately turning them numb and useless. His frosty breath froze into particles of ice on his eyelashes and eyebrows, giving the youth an illusion of frosty white hair. His skin was pallid, yet rubbed painfully raw by wind sheer; pointed ears, unprotected from the cold, stung with numbness and drummed loudly with the thumping, sluggish beating of his heart.

He staggered and fell. The youth could not begin to comprehend how he had come to be in this place. His memory was clouded with a dense curtain of fog: gray and nearly solid, like a heavy curtain, palpable to touch, yet impalpable to slice or cut away. Despite whatever remaining strength he mustered to peer beyond the misty barrier, it did not lift its harrowing grip. His mental determination wavered as his concentrations began to drift to a more pressing situation: the cold was killing him.

His mind screamed for warmth as his heart struggled to keep him alive. His lower legs were completely useless - completely numb and bitten by the sharp cold. A task as simple as walking was already an intangible skill utterly impossible to perform. The only possibility left for him was to lie there - wherever he was -, slowing freezing from the outside to the inside. He shuddered as he felt the icy grip of cold reach his heart and snatch hold like the icy hand of Death. His heartbeat grew slower . . . more sluggish . . .

Gasping for air, he struggled to stay alive with the last once of strength that the cold had not robbed from him. The rushing frigid air bit into his lungs, silencing his gasps as he shuddered in racking coughs. His hands, fingers long gone numb, dung limply into the frozen ground, lethargic, grasping for a hold, searching, slipping over ground that yielded neither crack nor surface to purchase support. This thought occurred and slowly registered in his dimming mind and half-lidded eyes attempted to swept across the landscape – but his mind could no longer translate the surroundings from his sense of sight – but this notion seemed nonsense; a trick; a false assumption under slipping consciousness . . .

. . . but yet, there _was_ nothing to see.

His surroundings were bleak, completely isolated and desolate for an infinitely stretching eternity. Ground and sky were an immaculate unity that yielded no discrepancy to shape or identity from one or the other. There was no sun, yet it was not dark. Wind was nonexistent, yet the unforgiving and surrounding cold widespread over all had no need for wind to carry its wrath to further heights and distances. Not a soul was lived within this expanse. None could; it was impossible. A frozen sea of nothing stretched into limits of visibility. No breath could be heard, no striding gait of a living creature, no evidence or history of any live passing. The place was forbidden and lonely; not a soul was there – save one soon to die.

As with forever, the cold would claim its victim, seal its fate and the land would become dead again, for the rest of time.

The last breath of a living creature is one the saddest of things to ever be heard. It signals the end of Life, a small part of what could have become and what may have been. It sometimes comes in due time, oft times it comes while the dying victim's tired mind is still racing for ways to survive. Most of the time the creature resists the feeling of death creeping into their dying body, robbing them of life. Their instincts, hidden so deep within marrow and essence, scream: "LIVE! LIVE! YOU MUST LIVE!" But the body eventually refuses to respond -- tired of the toiling task of Life for any more agonizing moments. The last breath comes, and the life goes to be gone forever among the living . . .

Still, the youth's mind refused to give up; it scrabbled for the latter of fates – of the struggle to survive against overwhelming death. It raced, skipping and losing logic and reason in its frantic thrashing to live. Despite its sluggish, dying state, it struggled to survive. But the body refused, it pleaded differently: it begged to be let go, to surrender against pain and end the useless struggle against inevitability. The two entities dueled, already tired beyond thought, action or reason, even as the freezing cold raged and fought another battle against the both of them. The conflicted self, divided between the frictional desires of the body and the mind, weakened – the hold of the cold over both strengthened. Finally, the body won – the mind gave up – his spirit died – and the Cold swept in in victory. It suffocated him, forcing the air from his lungs as his last spasms collapsed surrender.

The Last Breath came, and a calm enveloped his weariness -- his face set with a peaceful expression of submission. The Cold had won this battle.

His last thought ran slowly, stumbling through his mind as he felt his heart stop with a numb jolt:

__

'Zelda...'

The Cold claimed another victim, and won its purpose. The dead silence once again dominated the land, stretching forever into shapeless endlessness . . .

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With a sharp, spastic jolt, Link shot up from his bed, bending sharply from his torso, his eyes wild, breath panicked and gasping. Sweat poured from his body, soaking through his cotton shirt to his cloth blankets. Both coverings clung to his legs and waist, clammy and humid, stifling. His eyesight was blurry - unclear from an uncomfortable night's sleep. Panicked in his sudden start, his eyes dashed about the darkened room, confused: he was at home in the Kokiri Forest and all was well, even seemingly cheerful as an owl hooted among a chorus of crickets and nightingales outside his front door. Judging from the pale life illuminating from the East, it was an hour or two from the break of dawn.

His panic decreased slightly. He discovered familiar settings in their familiar, comfortable place, at the present, there was no cause for worry. Suddenly, he blinked, surprised - he found himself feeling ironic comfort from the sweating heat of his skin and the frantic beating of his heart - he was, without a doubt, fully and functionally, _alive._ His heart beat healthily (if not overly robustly in its continuing panic) and the coat of sweat over his skin was certain proof that he was not freezing to death. He steadied his breaths and finally calmed himself entirely, both relishing in the relief of being alive and healthy as well as wincing slightly at the uncomfortable, clammy feeling of his night shirt and blankets.

After a few passing moments, his mind began was clear again. The events of the dream came back, slowly back surely, and he soon felt uneasy again. His heart - still robust to his relief - increased its rhythm seemingly without permission, nervous and agitated at his mounting tension. With a deep intake of breath, he attempted to wipe the sweat from his brow but found it quickly replaced anew. It was obvious he was not about to slip off into a sweet, dreaming sleep anytime soon, and he gave up his efforts. Shaking his head clear, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and clabbered to the floor, shuffling through the dark room in search of fresh clothing. He shuddered as he recalled his dream. The memory gave him goose bumps all over his body, making his hair on his arms and legs stand on end. Dressing quickly, he gathered necessities and set off to someone who could perhaps help him interpret this ominous revelation . . .

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Author's Note: I'll continue to post rewritten chapters in the future. However, I cannot decide how to go through with this: on one hand, I really like to go back and revise the story, on the other, I'm anxious to continue with the plot line. Any suggestions? Thanks for your time, guys!

Love,

Dauq


	2. Chapter Two: Interpreter

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Chapter 2: _Interpreter_

Though Kokiri are very much like children – and children are very much inclined to wake in the early hours of the morning – Link found the Kokiri Forest rather empty as he slipped from his tree to the springy grass below. Landing softly, he carted up the path that ran along the small wooden fence. His boots stirred the fresh, crystal dew of the grass, flinging it from his heels in droplets with every step; each droplet catching the rays of the dawning sun in sudden, brilliant flashes and disappearing just as suddenly into the brush to reform themselves anew. Small glowing particles floated and lilted lazily through the low-lying branches of the trees in a slow dance, aiding the pale din of the morning sun as they glided luminously over the slowly waking Forest. This was familiar; this was home - but Link knew that some day he would leave it. Somehow, though, he inwardly wished it would not be soon.

Kokiri are a race of children. Born from the Forest and living among the Forest, it is playful and carefree Children of the Forest that they forever will remain. Although Link lived ten years believing he the same fate, the adventures that drew him away from the Forest learned him otherwise - he was a Hylian, an infant born of a dying mother, orphaned in the Kokiri Forest under the watchful care of the wise Deku Tree. However, by the beginning of the first adventure to lead him from the Forest, the Deku Tree had died. And although all enemies were defeated and Link had eventually returned to the Forest, he found himself even more of an outsider among the Kokiri especially Mido, a self-appointed archenemy. His only confidant was Saria, a green-haired and helpful Kokiri girl who was his ever-endearing friend. It is to her that he ran to this morning for help, in hopes that she would be able to interpret the disturbing events of his earlier dream. Lengthening his stride into a leap, Link landed neatly on the wooden fence and ran atop its borders, increasing his speed as he did so. Although he was no longer required as the Hero of Time, Link found no harm in continuing the hone his acquired skills. Ironically, however, running atop a fence was rudimentarily simple - actually, mere sport - compared to the caliber of his previous adventures.

His previous adventures. Link's stride hitched a step, but recovered quickly, continuing its swift pace. After defeating the Evil King, Ganondorf, Link's travels through time as the hero of legend were over. Returning the Ocarina of Time to Zelda, Link found himself back in the past, with none who remembered or could even guess at the events that had occurred in the timeline seven years into the future. Even the younger version of Zelda had no recollection of Link, despite it being her older counterpart that had returned him to his original time and original self. For a time, the isolation burdened Link greatly, but with the persistence of Saria, Link found solstice within the kindness and trust of his lifelong friend. He had told her everything - from the goblins and ghosts to the Evil King and the ancient Sages. Saria was surprised to learn that she herself had been the Sage of the Forest during Link's adventure, but later believed his story with more confidence as he explained her willful assistance and help against evil that endangered Hyrule. In the end, however, Link could not be entirely should whether Saria had fully believed him or not, but having another to share in the memories of another timeline certainly helped ease the burden. But now, Link was not so sure that confiding the events of this certain dream in Saria would carry the same relieving consequences. And as he arrived outside her house to see her waiting anxiously for him outside the door, his heart sank as it found this dark suspicion to be true.

When he was within a few steps the entrance, Saria pursed a finger to her lips and silently beckoned him inside. Stepping over the threshold of the door, Link bowed under the flap and blinked in the dimmed light of Saria's candle-lit room. To the left was a bed, slightly rumpled and disorganized - the polar opposite of its usual state. Unnerved even more, Link turned to look at his friend, who was leaning through the doorway, looking left and right cautiously. After a moment, she seemed pleased, and lowered her arm that held the door flap aloft and stepped fully into her home, the flap closed and the green scenery of the Kokiri Forest was cut off from sight. Turning to Link, Saria gave him a small smile, sweeping her hand to the chairs located ajacent the bed to indicate that he should sit down. He complied. When all was settled, she finally spoke.

"I think I already know why you came," she looked at him in slight question; Link nodded for her to continue. "And I want you to know right now: I had it too. It's frightening, but I think now that this may be more than a dream. Especially," she added, a smile fainting touching her lips as she raised a small hand to her temple. She looked tired, yet affirmed in her conclusion. "Since I feel a dread that there is even more to this premonition than there seems. We-"

Suddenly, she blinked. The hand at her temple dropped to her lap as her eyes widened in slight surprise. She raised her head toward him: "Oh! I'm so sorry! I had completely forgotten!" She flushed, but opened her arms in friendly greeting and managed an embarrassed smile. "Oh Link, how are you? I completely forgot my manners! Are you hungry? Thirsty? I'm sorry, I should have asked the moment you walked in . . . "

Link waved his hand dismissively, declining her polite offer but sending an apologetic grin. Still tired, she meekly mirror it back with one of her own, feeling forgiven for her slight mishap. Sure, an early breakfast was always a welcome luxury, but the both of them were pressed with more urgent matters. There was a moment of uneasy silence, the rising light outside the house had grown stronger with the passing time; yellow rays stole themselves through the small tears and rips of the door flap, shining rays in steep angles that cast small, golden squares on the floor. Tense moment broken, there was a beat of uneasy silence, then Saria's voice continued.

"But whatever foreboding feelings we may have, it may not even matter. I mean, who would believe us? Even if all those stories you told me are true . . . " She trailed off, looking at Link, looking for answers. He returned the glance blankly, unsure of which answer she wanted him to give. After a while, Saria gave up, her voice now more solemn. "But we must try. There's no other option; we cannot let whatever the dreams prophesize happen. There doesn't seem to be ways to fight against that sort of power, that sort of . . . evil."

Saria sighed. Link shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A moment passed, then Link spoke, the first time since he had awoke in a panic early this morning.

"I'll go to Princess Zelda."

Saria's head snapped up, she stared at him almost incredulously. Link knew the Princess, but only through polite acquaintance - mainly through accident, since he had walked familiarly up to her, not knowing this version of Zelda did not know him at all. Saria opened her mouth, but did not answer. Link continued.

"Of all of us, I think she can help most. She may not be the Zelda I had fought with in the time before, but she is still the same person. She may know what the dreams mean. Besides," Link grinned. "I don't think she'd be one to dismiss someone who predicts the doom of Hyrule. She loves Hyrule very much. Very deeply. I know -," his voice slightly somber. " - I've been there when it is in trouble. She'll fight for it. And I will, too."

Saria, all the while, had continued her state, but after a moment, she lowered her gaze and smiled a little, "So much confidence for someone who you should not know so very well." She dwelled on this a moment, then, standing up and clapping her hands together, her familiar courage and spirit back: "Okay - let's do it. I may not be able to leave the forest - but you can. Go to the Princess; talk with her if you can. She may be able to interpret the dreams and decipher the meaning. Maybe, if we're lucking, there is nothing to worry about, nothing that can harm . . . " Despite her words, she did not seemed assured of their meaning. She did not finish her trail of thought, but quickly moved to another. " . . . and I'll help you leave without Mido bothering you. If he sees you leaving the Forest, there's bound to be trouble. We don't need that when there're other things to worry about."

Link agreed, nodding vigorously. Saria smiled in response. Link and Mido had never gotten along - Mido more the antagonist of the relationship than Link - mostly due to Mido's mistrust of outsiders. Because Link did not have a fairy of his own (a natural trait of the Kokiri, but not, of course, a Hylian), Mido regarded Link as nothing but bothersome trouble (a label to which his outsider status did little help), bullying him and constantly jeering him with torment. However, as both children recalled, Mido was not as eager to jaunt and scorn when Link had grown to near-adult status in his previous adventures and had literally towered over the little Kokiri, but that cheerful memory had no place among the gloom of their present situation. It was set aside for later days, more cheerful days - if there were ever to be any more days to be cheerful for.

Bidding his friend goodbye, Link set off to gather supplies to equip for travel to the Hyrule Castle. Although the Castle was within a day's journey from the Forest, Link would be a fool not to take provisions or even weapons along for the journey - his adventures through time and other worlds, it seemed, had taught him more than just skills with a sword. However, as much as Link liked to hope, he could not be sure if those acquired skills from adventures past would be enough to match a new threat - especially, he thought darkly, against the threat that now hung ominously over the fast-approaching horizon.

He was ready. Provisions were packed, weapons chosen, and preparations made. It was time to go to the Hyrule Castle. The place, he thought to himself, where all of his adventures in time had originally begun.

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Author's Note: I decided to add more exposition than the original version of this story. Originally, Link had set straight off to Zelda, but I decided to take a more explanatory approach: Ocarina of Time had a rather ambiguous ending, and my interpretation of it may be different than some. I hoped this chapter helped set the setting a little more, as well as further developed the characters. But just in case, I'll reiterate a little more on the continuance from the Ocarina of Time story line:

At the end of Ocarina of Time, Link was returned to his original time and the Master Sword was laid to rest. No longer needed as the Hero of Time, Princess Zelda sent Link back in time seven years to relive the part of his life that was lost. Now, that's all hunky-dory, because we already know that part, but CR takes it a little further . . .

Because Link is now seven years in the past, all the friends he'd come to met and know through his adventures in the future would not recognize him. The past version of Zelda does not know him either - the reasons I'm giving are because in the other time line, the other Zelda had fled from the Castle during the onslaught of Ganondorf, leaving the Ocarina of Time with her and thus catalyzing the majority of the plot line for Ocarina of Time. But since Ganondorf has been defeated and the Zelda Link had rushed to see after being returned to his time was still at the Castle and even at the same Courtyard he had originally met her, I think the all of the events surrounding Ganondorf had been erased: there was no fleeing from the Castle, no evil taking over the land, no adventure, etc. Except now, the great Deku Tree is still dead, and though that had originally been the result of Ganondorf's increasing power, I had to keep that part of the story line else Link would not have had a reason to leave the Kokiri Forest in the first place! Confusing? You bet. Let's see how all of this plays out . . .

Until next time, later, days! I'll be sure to post chapter three within the next week. Thanks for reading!

Love always,

Dauq


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